passions besides terror.

Without referring to the celebrated _Jacobite_ goldfinch of Miss Cicy
Scott, which the good old maiden of Carubber's Close affirmed became of a
deep sable hue on the day of Charles's martyrdom--though doubtless the
natural philosopher would have discovered in this some more efficient
cause than respect for the royal sufferer!--I myself recollect a partial
change in the colour of a fine green parrot, belonging to Mr. Rutherford,
of Ladfield. Like Miss Scott, the laird of Ladfield was a stanch adherent
of the house of Stuart, and to his dying day cherished the hope of
beholding their restoration to the throne of Britain.

In the meantime, Mr. Rutherford amused his declining years by teaching
Charley to whistle "The king shall hae his ain again," and to gibber "Send
the old rogue to Hanover;" for which he was always rewarded by a
sugar-plum or a dole of wassail (Scotch short-bread). Those epicurean
indulgences at length induced a state of obesity; and so depraved became
the appetite of the bird, that, rejecting his natural food, he used to
pluck out the feathers from those parts of the back within his reach, and
bruise them with his bill, to obtain the oily substance contained in the
quills.

The feathers which grew on the denuded parts were whitish, and never
resumed their natural hue. I often saw Charley long after the death of his
master, and he looked as if Nature, in one of her sportive moods, had
created him half parrot, half gosling--so strangely did his whitish back
and tail contrast with his scarlet poll and brilliant green neck.

A still more remarkable change of colour in a lark, belonging to Dr. Thos.
Scott, of Fanash, occurred under my own eye, and which, I have no doubt,